It's Hard to Say Goodbye
by D. O. Parker
Summary: Love doesn't always end with a "happily-ever-after"...Sometimes, the prince chooses the perfect princess...and it's Cinderella's heart that gets broken... Based on a true story.


****

It's Hard to Say Goodbye

A/N: To my Readers, I am pulling out _If I Can Make You Love Me, We Could Always Pretend_ and _Falling for a Dream. _This is the last story I am going to put up in a long time, and I'm not sure that I'll write anything after this. I think I owe you an explanation to this sudden decision I'm making, so here it is, in my final story…(Characters' names are used to substitute real-life persons.)

Just to clear up a few things: everything narrated within is done as faithfully to do justice to the original event. Ron, here, is a close friend but not really the best friend and he and Ginny are still siblings. Harry and Hermione have been best friends for 18 years. Both are 22.

***************

"Personally, I find it quite sexist that you're doing your thesis on women _only. _I mean, don't the men in Afghanistan suffer equally?" Dean Thomas asked, cradling a martini in one hand and his boyfriend in the other.

I rolled my eyes. "The men in Afghanistan didn't suffer as much as the women did. They were free, inasmuch as they wanted to be free, to do whatever they wanted. Women were repressed and oppressed. Hiding themselves behind their veils and limiting their uses to the home when they could be off doing something they'd love to be doing. And if they did something they wanted, they would be cast out, unaccepted…"

"There's such a thing as modesty, darling," Dean replied.

"You know, for a gay person, you're very narrow-minded," I told him, giving him a friendly slap on the back, which he returned.

Ron sidled next to me, whispering, "Look who just came in."

I turned around in time to see Harry take Ginny Weasley's coat from her. I grimaced. "Oh, great. Just the people I wanted to see."

Ron nudged me. "Hey, that's my sister you're talking about," he teased lightly.

"Exactly my point," I replied, walking over to the happy couple. I loathed seeing the two of them together, and I had to wonder why Harry had the nerve to bring _her_ to my going-away party. Like I won't be gone in a month, he has to bring her without asking me.

I knew I was being unreasonable. Harry didn't really have to ask for my permission if he could bring Ginny, like he's done for the past three months that they've been going out. I mean, I always welcomed her whenever she came. But I _loathed_ her.

Perfect Ginny – with her perfect red-gold hair and her perfect body and her perfect clothes and her perfect career. She's doing her residency at St. Mungo's now and she'll be finishing up in a few more months. Everyone, including her parents, is expecting her to top the medical licensure exam.

Did I already tell you how much I loathed her?

I also know that I'm not being fair to Ron, who was Ginny's brother. I mean, Ron's my friend and everything but I just don't like his sister. Oh, she's not bad, contrary to what people might think because of what I say. In fact, she's very nice and generous and serves a lot of charities and visits orphanages and that kind of stuff. I just hate her because she has the one person who has meant a lot (more than a lot) to me than any other person in this world.

"Harry!" I exclaimed, wrapping my best friend in a tight bear hug only best friends can share. "You're late."

"That's my fault," Perfect Ginny piped up, smiling and handing me a cake box. "I had an emergency to take care of the hospital. I told him to go ahead but he said he didn't want to leave without me."

I gritted my teeth, taking the cake box from her. "Oh?" I said between pursed teeth.

"But we're here now," Harry said in that comforting way he used when I felt a little hurt for his being late. "And we got you a nice blueberry cheesecake, too."

I am so not going to let Ginny ruin tonight. This is _my_ night. "You should've bought me something else. You know I don't forgive you being late just like that."

Someone turned up the Dave Matthews Band CD on my stereo, blaring out _Crash Into Me_ over the speakers.

"There'll be another surprise later, I promise." Harry's eyes gleamed mischievously and I felt my heart jump to my throat. Even though I hated surprises, Harry was full of them.

***An hour and a half and four tequila shots later***

Harry tapped his cake fork to his champagne flute to get everyone's attention. "Everyone, everyone…Hello? PEOPLE!"

Well, that sure got their attention.

"We're all here, on this glorious work day, to celebrate the recent success of my best friend, Hermione Granger, on fooling the university to grant her a year abroad."

Everyone roared with laughter.

"Without which," Harry continued, laughing. "Without which, none of us would be here celebrating anything."

A general applause rang through the crowd of people in my apartment with choruses of "Hear, hear!" and "Hooray for Hermione!"

'And I would like to tell her," at this, he looked at me so lovingly, I could've melted. "That I am so proud of her and everything she's accomplished. She has been an inspiration to me, to everyone and I know none of us would be here if she hasn't touched our lives in one way or the other. Hermione, you are not just my best friend – you haven't been for a long time. And you know that I'm not big on expressing my feelings and such, but I just want you to know how much I love you."

My heart stopped beating (at least, I thought it did) at his words. He never was very expressive and he only tells me that he loves me after we've made up after a fight or if he's trying to scare away potential suitors (not that there's ever been any, but he did it anyway). I prayed to anyone above who was listening that this was true.

"I am so thankful that you decided to come into my life." He smiled at me, the hand holding his drink shaking a bit. "You are one of the best things that's happened to me and I don't know how I could have survived in this world without you by my side. I can't imagine going through the rest of my weird, warped life without you."

__

Oh God, oh God…breathe, Hermione. Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale…

Around me, I could sense that everyone else was holding their breaths. In the course of my four years at the university, I only told _three_ people that I was in love with Harry. In some break in the space-time continuum, everyone in the room – save for Harry and Ginny – knew about it. And for a moment, I seriously considered changing my topic to studying the mechanics of the gossip network.

I was glad I was sitting down because what he did next would have knocked me off my feet had I been upright.

"Which is also why," Harry added, kneeling. "I could not, would not imagine me getting married without you by my side."

__

Oh…my…god…

Smiling the smile that would make me submit to whatever he asked me to do, he turned on his knee in one swift movement and faced…

__

Ginny.

He took her hand in his, clasping it tight. I felt like I was choking.

"Ginny," he declared while we all watched. "I have my best friend, my sister, my only family sitting right behind me to witness this event. And I'm only doing this once so I really hope I get the answer I'm hoping to get."

__

My best friend, my sister…

"Ginny?" Harry whispered.

__

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket…Never let it fade away…

"Will you marry me?"

It was true – what they do in the movies. I knew there had to be a basis for it somehow. The slow motion effects that they do when lovers meet or break up and the strains of the saddest songs echoing in the background.

__

My shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on the shelf

I saw you, holding hands, standing close to someone else

Now I sit all alone, wishing all my feelings were gone

I give my best to you…

Nothing for me to do…

But have one last cry…

"Yes…yes…YES! Of course, yes! I will marry you!" Ginny exclaimed, causing Harry to jump up and envelop her in his arms, sharing a deep kiss.

It was the oddest scene – as they were blissfully wrapped up in their own happiness, no one in the room stirred to congratulate them or even begin clapping. Not even Ron. They were all looking at me, waiting to see what I would do, wanting to know what the loser felt…

__

I wanna reach out and feel you beside me, right here beside me, baby

Take you in my arms right now

Scream I love you right aloud

Someday I pray that I'll find the strength to turn to you and say,

If I was the one who was loving you…

I looked at the faces nearest to mine, each of them filled with sadness and pity for me, because I had lost out. 18 years lost out to 3 months. I suddenly felt so old…

I suppose I had gone into my autopilot mode, perhaps because I was nearing my danger zone – never show weakness. I could hardly remember it but I raised both hands and began clapping…

And everyone around me followed suit.

"To the future Mr. and Mrs. Harry Potter!" I exclaimed, raising my glass to them. My guests murmured along, exchanging handshakes and hugs with the happy couple.

__

The happy couple…

"Excuse me," I mumbled, bolting out of my apartment. I climbed up the fire escape, onto the roof where I sat down and cried.

***************

"You do know how easily offended I get when I realize a student of mine isn't concentrating," my thesis adviser, Dean Candlwick, commented.

It was roughly three weeks since _it_ happened. _It_ being Harry's engagement to someone I wasn't during _my_ farewell-in-a-month party. I haven't cried in, oh, since I was a baby who couldn't very well get my own feeding bottle. And now, I'm crying over Harry! I've been hating myself for three weeks now. 'Course, no one saw me crying on the roof but I vowed never to cry over anything – especially over a guy. And here I was, shaken, depressed and tired because I have been crying over Harry ever since _it_.

I gave myself a little mental shake, trying to refocus my eyes on my defense paper. "S-sorry," I mumbled absently. "Where were we?"

Dean Candlwick, a nice, sixty-ish old professor (and witch) at the university crossed her arms in front of her and peered at me through her glasses that reminded me of Professor McGonagall's. "Why don't you tell me, Hermione?"

I glanced at the top of the page on my copy. "Er – cost estimates for post-production?" I suggested lamely.

She snorted. "That's not even _your_ paper, Hermione."

"Oh."

She reached for my hand, patting it softly. "It's Harry Potter, isn't it?"

My eyes shot up in surprise. "What? No, of course not. What even made you think of him?"

"The Daily Prophet. They just headlined his recent engagement to Ginny Weasley," she replied smugly. "You always were a terrible liar."

"What would make you think that I'm mooning over him? How do you know that I'm not just about to keel over because of my defense in a week?"

"Because your paper is perfect. You could become a lawyer with your ironclad explanations and estimates, and you know the whole thing backwards and forwards. I swear, only the Minister of Magic would hold you from going abroad and he'd have to come up with something pretty good to keep you back. Out with it, miss."

I groaned. "Didn't know you were such a gossip."

"I was your age once. And don't take me for a fool, Miss Granger. I know that you're in love with Harry Potter."

"You and the rest of my little black book. Why do you think I'm still single?"

"Aren't you friends with Ronald Weasley and his sister?"

I grimaced. "With Ron, yes. Ginny, not really. How could I get along with _her_?"

Dean Candlwick frowned. "Have you tried talking to her at least?"

"Would you try talking to someone who you know is stealing your man away from you?"

"Well, technically, he was never _yours_."

"Not in _that_ way maybe, but he was mine in spirit, mind and soul." I stared at my hands. "He adored me for the last eighteen years – _me_! And that little hooch is pulling him away from me."

She frowned again, brows furrowed. "Isn't it possible that it's Harry who's doing the pulling?"

I glared at her. "You know, you're not helping the situation."

She laughed loudly and I was tempted to give her a smack just to make sure that she hasn't lost her mind yet. How could she be laughing at _my_ detriment? Hel-lo! I'm wallowing in self-pity here!

"Hermione," she began, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Have you ever told Harry how you felt about him? Or maybe tried to show him that you're interested in getting together with him as someone other than a friend?"

I looked at her as if she really was insane. "Are you aware that we have been best friends for more than half our lives? I'm not risking everything, especially when I know that he could never feel the same about me."

"That's a brilliant deduction, Hermione. But you and I both know that you're just guessing. You know, when I watch Muggle soaps on TV, I think that if only the main characters had gotten their lines straight by bothering to ask the other what really happened, then they wouldn't have to keep postponing marriages or misplacing babies in the hospital. 65% of all failed relationships is because of miscommunication."

"And the other 35% is composed of best friends who wanted to be more-than-friends with their significant other," I grumbled. "Can we not talk about Harry anymore, please? Let's just get back to work, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Hermione," Dean Candlwick said, propping her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "I just don't want you to keep wondering _What if_ for the rest of your life when you could find out the answer now."

***************

"I'll have blueberry waffles drenched in lots of maple syrup," Harry told the waitress at the Muggle diner we frequented every Saturday morning. "Two slices of French toast, scrambled eggs, bacon and a very tall glass of orange juice, please." He gave the waitress a charming smile who, in turn, giggled like the young woman that she is before giving me a death look.

"And you?" she quipped. I bit my tongue. I guess after taking an order from a devastatingly handsome guy, everyone else would be chicken shit.

But since she was asking…

"Regular pancakes with the butter and syrup on the side. And a cup of coffee."

The waitress gave Harry another sweet smile before shooting me a final deathly look. I wonder how she'd feel if I told her that I can hex her for real.

I gave my best friend a withering look. "You are aware of course of the pounds of cholesterol you're voluntarily injecting in your system with the food you just ordered."

He grinned boyishly at me that I had the sudden urge to rumple his hair and kiss him full on the lips. _Snap out of it, Granger!_ I reprimanded myself. "Who made you my doctor?" he asked me teasingly and although I knew that he meant well, I felt my heart twist painfully.

My eyes dropped to the linoleum table and I began fingering the corner of the napkin – something I usually did when I became nervous or afraid. "That's right," I mumbled slowly. "You already have a doctor. I forgot."

"Oh, now, come on, Hermione. What's with the dramatics? It's a bright and early Saturday morning and you sound just like a character straight out of _Jumpstreet_."

"And you sound like a man whose on his way to getting married," I said too brightly this time, like I'd been auditioning for a role on_ Teletubbies_.

"Can you believe it?" Harry exclaimed. "I'm getting married in two months. Two months! We haven't even begun discussing about the church, her dress and the guest list…Do you suppose they'd remove Harry Potter Day if I didn't invite the Minister of Magic to the wedding? I really don't like him at all."

"No, I still can't believe it myself. Harry Potter is finally getting whipped."

"I am not whipped," he countered lightly. "But I must admit, it feels good. I mean, I never expected to find someone as loving, caring, generous, trustworthy and beautiful as Ginny – who loves me because I'm just silly, old me and _not_ Harry Potter. How lucky am I, Hermione? How lucky?"

"Very lucky," I replied quietly, wishing for the first time in my life that I didn't show up for our morning date.

Harry smiled again, a smile that reached his ears. "Plus, she's a would-be doctor who's incredibly smart and funny and everyone likes her. She is just so perfect that I've been thinking what have I ever done to deserve her?" He sighed before leaning forward and taking my hand in his. "I just wish you would find the same happiness as I have. Who knows? This trip around the world would be good for you. You just might find Mr. Right, eh?"

__

I've already found Mr. Right, my brain told me. _He's sitting right in front of me_. Of course, I didn't say it aloud so I just nodded and smiled.

The waitress came back with our food (flashing yet another dazzling smile at Harry and another Look at me). Through a mouthful of waffles (I swear, he could be just as piggy as Ron) came the question I've been dreading ever since he announced his engagement.

"You're the maid of honor, okay? I would've made you the best man but Ginny's brothers have got to go someplace."

It wasn't even a question, really. It was more of an order.

"Maid of…" I began to stutter. "Me? I can't…no, not me."

"What do you mean not you? Why not you? You're my best friend and there's no one I'd rather have standing right next to me – well, next to Ginny – than you. And you know I won't go through with this marriage without you by my side!"

"Harry, I'm not the maid of honor type. And I'm sure Ginny's got some girl friend who would just love to fill that spot…"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you, Hermione. I'm telling you, no two ways about it."

He went back to attacking the waffles and I was left with no appetite, a barely eaten pancake and very, very confused thoughts.

***************

I couldn't be maid of honor! I just couldn't! That's almost suicidal for me – standing there, right beside Harry and wishing that his vows were addressed to _me_.

I don't want to ruin his wedding. And yet, I don't want it to take place either. 

So, what do I do?

__

Go. Fight for him. Do something now, darling. L'amour est vrai.

And as much as I wanted to, I know I can't – wouldn't – fight for him. If he'd have an inkling of feeling for me before, he would have acted on it, I knew he would. At the very least, he would've said something.

I always hated the cheesy love songs they played on Sunday radio. Perhaps the radio stations knew that all the desperate, lonely women in the world stayed alone and musing inside their apartments on Sunday evenings, valiantly wishing for the new work week to come so we'd have something to keep our minds off those silly love nonsense and such.

And yet you can't help but listen to song after song of Patti Austin, Barbra Streisand, Kenny Loggins, Boyz II Men…

__

My shattered dreams and broken heart are mending on the shelf

I saw you holding hands, standing close to someone else

Now I sit all alone, wishing all my feelings were gone

Got to get over you,

Nothing for me to do…

But have one last cry,

One last cry

Before I leave it all behind

I've got to put you out of my mind this time

Stop living a lie

I guess I'm down to my last cry

There's something about Brian McKnight songs that just _get_ to me. I cry again and though I willed my brain to tell my eyes to tell my tear ducts to stop crying, it won't – because my brain couldn't do anything when it's my heart that's breaking and making me cry.

__

I was here, you were there

Guess we never could agree

While the sun shines on you,

I need some love to rain on me

Still I sit all alone

Wishing all my feelings were gone

I give my best to you,

Nothing for me to do…

But have one last cry…

I'm gonna dry my eye,

Right after I make my…

One last cry,

One last cry

Before I leave it all behind

I've got to put you out of my mind for the very last time

Been living a lie

I guess I'm down…

I guess I'm down…

I guess I'm down…

To my last cry…

I know what I have to do.

*****Flash Forward to Today, May 18, 2003*****

My flight to Thailand leaves in five hours. The first stop of my "Kodak-the-world-or-bust" thesis trip. My parents are nervously wringing their hands – partly because their only daughter is about to embark on one of the most ambitious theses ever been attempted to be done at the university, partly because of the SARS scare. I think it's the SARS that's scaring them the most.

I'm leaving a month early. My defense was declared excellent that my appeal to move up the trip was approved without any problem. I knew Dean Candlwick pulled a few strings for me and I am eternally grateful for her help and insight, without which I would have never pulled off this ambitious thesis.

Harry isn't here. He doesn't know I'm leaving today. He thinks that despite what I told him, I'd still be leaving after he gets married. But I'm not.

Approximately ten hours ago, I was at Harry's flat, determined to do what I've been preparing myself to do since it first dawned on me what I _should_ do.

I took a good look at him, since it was probably the last time I'll be seeing him. He's as handsome as ever. He'd just returned from a grocery trip (I could tell from the bags on his kitchen counter) and even in a plain, white shirt and khakis, he looked as sexy as he did when he wears a suit. But apart from his clothing, I inhaled the aroma of _bruschetta _and _tagliatelle et ragu_ cooking in his kitchen. Harry loved to cook and I loved to eat his cooking, which made me want to cry even more because I know I will never get to eat with him again – not as a friend, best friend or anything.

Not after I do what I'm about to do.

There was no one in the world as sweet, caring, kind, loving, generous, et cetera, et cetera as _my_ Harry. And although I would love to tell myself that I'm good enough for him, I know, deep inside, that I never will be. Harry deserves someone as wonderful and as perfect as he is and I know that it's not me. But there's nothing wrong in hoping…and trying…one last time…

"Hey," he greeted me with a smile. "Didn't expect to see you around here. I thought you were at your parents'."

I gave him a shaky kiss that barely brushed his cheek. "I just thought I'd stop by, see how you were doing before I went over to their house. Mum's probably hyperventilating over her goulash about now and I, for one, don't want to be around to see that."

"Naughty girl," he told me, laughing as he stirred his ragu. "Flat's a bit unorganized. Had I known you were coming I would've fixed it up a bit."

I feigned a pout. "And I thought the tagliatelle was for me."

"Fat chance, Granger, You already had my tagliatelle last week. This is for Ginny. She's coming over tonight to look at dress sketches. But I'm sure she won't mind if you stayed for dinner. I bet she'd love to get a woman's opinion on her wedding dress, and you could pick out your dress too while you're at it!"

Just hearing Ginny's name and the word 'wedding' in the same sentence felt like I was dying.

"Actually, Harry, I was wondering if we could talk for a bit – before Ginny gets here," I said seriously, which always worried him.

He turned down the heat on the ragu, allowing it to simmer, then pulled out a chair for myself and for him. "Something wrong, Hermione?" he asked, taking my right hand in between his, rubbing them soothingly on my hand.

"No, no, nothing's wrong. It's just…talk, you know. Like we used to do." I blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall from my eyes. "You've been very busy lately with Quidditch and Ginny and the Weasleys and your wedding…you and I haven't been spending time together." I forced a teasing smile on my face. "You missed Saturday breakfast."

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry. It's just that with Gin taking the exam, I'm kind of doing the wedding planning with Mrs. Weasley and her brothers all want to contribute something…"

I waved it away. "Doesn't matter anymore, Harry. At least now we could talk."

"Of course. You know I didn't mean to ignore Saturday, right? I just needed some sleep. I think Mrs. Weasley's training me to have seven kids after marriage." Harry laughed. "So you'd better be there and be helpful Aunt Hermione…"

"Harry, I can't make it to your wedding."

He stopped talking at once, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion. "What do you mean you won't make it to the wedding…?"

"It means what it means. I can't make it to your wedding and I won't be able to be the maid of honor. I just can't."

Harry let go of my hand, his mouth agape. "You just _can't_? What does that mean you just _can't_? Hermione, what's going on?"

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding as I prepared to ask the question that has been haunting me. "Have you ever…loved…me?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question, Harry," I said rapidly. "Have you ever loved me, maybe even thought of me as someone you could possibly spend your whole life with? Not as a best friend, but as a woman who loves you and who will live and die for you…"

"Hermione, what are you saying?"

"I know I'm not as perfect or as beautiful as Ginny," I added, tears now streaming down my face. "But when you told me how lucky you were to have someone as loving, as generous, as trustworthy, as smart and as funny as she is, I thought you were talking about – well, me. Because you know you can trust me, you always have for the last 18 years and I know I'm smart and I can be funny at times and I'll love you more than Ginny would ever love you…"

Without another thought in my head, I leaned forward and captured his mouth in a kiss. How long I've wanted to kiss him! All coherent thoughts left my brain – there was only his mouth and his body pressed against mine. My heart and mind screamed for more and I believed – I truly believed – that it was Harry and I who were destined – fated – to be together…

Until he pushed me away…

And the first thing he said was, "What has gotten into you?"

Love has gotten into me and I don't know what to do to get it out. I knew this was how it would end. Sometimes in life, your one true love has another true love meant for him – and it's not even you. So you are destined to wander about in eternity, alone…wishing on falling stars to take you to a place where nobody knows you and where nobody would mind if you cry…

"I'm sorry, Harry," I whispered, standing up and briskly walking toward his front door.

And you know what the saddest thing about all this is? After all I've said and done…

He didn't even try to stop me.

__

Have you ever seen somebody and you knew that if only that person really knew you, they would – well, they would dump the perfect model they were with and realize that you were the one they wanted to just grow old with...?

***************

A/N: This is going to be my last story for a very long time. General events, songs and words are translated as faithfully as I can make them. I am on my way to Thailand in five hours and I wouldn't want to leave you hanging.

No, he doesn't know I'm leaving and I have asked my parents and friends not to tell him. I'm not sure when I am coming back, or if I am ever going to come back. But by that time, I am sure that _my_ Harry will be married and I wouldn't want to cause him any trouble by reappearing.

I thank you, my wonderful reviewers and readers. I apologize for not updating sooner and I would like to ask for your understanding. I am positive that if you were in my shoes, you wouldn't be able to continue writing fantasies of happily-ever-afters when you know, first-hand, that fantasy doesn't always jive with reality. And reality hurts.

If I do come back to FF.net, I hope to see all of you again. I shall miss all of you profusely and would like to bid you all _au revoir_!

Until we meet again…

D.O. Parker


End file.
